


Mayday Custom and Practice

by inamac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Puns, Bells, M/M, morris dancing, sodomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2020-09-05 23:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20281615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inamac/pseuds/inamac
Summary: Hermione recruits Draco and Harry to help celebrate the May in traditional manner.





	Mayday Custom and Practice

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Daily Deviant May 2015. I was very free with the prompt – I hope that the general Lusty Month of May theme covers this. There's background Luna/Hermione.

**1 – Custom**

"What we need," Hermione had said, "is a community event for both wizards and Muggles to help raise spirits."

Draco had perked up at the idea of ritual necromancy, particularly if directed at Muggles, but reverted to his habitual expression of boredom when she explained that by 'raising spirits' she meant social bonhomie rather than ritual magic.

"We can get everyone to pitch in," she continued. "We could run a May Fayre (she gave the word both its capital and its archaic spelling), cake stalls and a tombola, and games and things. And maybe a May Queen..."

Draco lost interest again. Social events, in his experience, usually involved uncomfortable dress robes and handing round canapés to his Mother's chattering friends. He resumed his self-imposed task of using magical means to tame Hermione's unruly hair. So far the growing and smoothing spells purloined from his parent's dressing closets had been disappointing. Purple wasn't really Hermione's colour.

"A Maypole dance!" said Harry, who was paying more attention than his partner.

Draco raised an interested eyebrow. He knew all about the traditional significance of maypoles. "I quite fancy the idea of you wrapped up in ribbons and tied to a pole."

Hermione gave an exasperated snort. "Don't be silly. Maypole dancing is done by girls." She looked suddenly thoughtful "But there's always Morris dancing."

"Who's Morris?"

Hermione ignored the question. She pulled out her wand and _summoned_ a large wicker basket which Harry vaguely remembered having seen under the stage in the local village hall. The word PROPS was stencilled in old paint on one side. She opened the lid and started riffling through the contents. "I know I saw it here somewhere. Luna said... Ah yes!" She thrust a tangle of ribbons at Harry which jangled. "There are some bells, and here," another hand tossed a gaudy rod to Draco, "Is a stick. And all the rest of the costumes seem to be here too."

Harry laughed at the expression on Draco's face, just as a second set of bells hit him amidships. "Neville said he has a friend who runs a 'side' down in Sussex, I'll call him and see whether we can arrange a practice. If not," Hermione smiled mischievously, "there's always the Dancing Charm." Leaving the threat hanging on the air she left to make her arrangements.

**2 - Practice**

"Ribbons and bells?" asked Draco when she had gone. "And sticks? What are we supposed to do with these?"

Harry grinned. "I'm not sure of the details, but you tie the bells to your legs and dance around hitting the sticks together."

"Dance? You? Hermione has taken leave of her senses. She's seen you trying to dance."

"This is different. Look." 

Harry bent to strap the bells around his calves, giving Draco a tempting view of his arse as he did so. Draco, never one to miss an opportunity, gave the proffered target a swipe with the gaudily panted stick.

"What's all this got to do with May Day anyway?"

Harry ignored the assault and picked up the second set of bells. "Same as the maypole dance. It's supposed to be a fertility thing."

Draco grinned, the image that he had remarked on earlier came back to mind. Harry wrapped in ribbons and tied to a pole. Well, he had the pole, and it was certainly of a convenient size and length. He reapplied it to Harry's arse, this time more gently, and rolled it with his hands, watching thoughtfully as the wood made a soft indentation in the fabric of his trousers.

Harry moaned.

Draco moved round to face him, still caressing the stick, running his hands up and down the shaft with a thoughtful expression on his face. Harry was erect now, in every sense, watching him warily. Draco fixed his eyes on Harry's crotch and brought the end of the stick up to his lips, rolling it across them with a lascivious touch. If he'd had his wand he might have performed a _correspondence_ spell, but the effect was the same as if his lips were truly on Harry's cock.

Harry dropped his hands to unfasten his flies, to push his trousers down as far as possible against the confining bell-straps.

Draco grinned. He reached out with the end of the stick and pressed it against Harry's balls. The result was most satisfactory. The bells shivered in response. It was too much. Draco dropped the stick and reached for the warm flesh for which it had been a surrogate. Harry's wood tasted much better than Hermione's. He bore them both to the floor, onto the tatters of silk and ribbon that had spilled from the basket of costumes. His own clothes joined them, somehow without his losing contact with Harry's already naked loins. If it took a sex ritual to celebrate May Day Draco was all too ready to practice.

He knelt and rolled Harry towards him, spreading his thighs and lifting his hips to position his cock at Harry's entrance. At first the jangling of the bells strapped around Harry's knees on either side of him, had been a distraction, but now, with every thrust through Harry's warm, pulsing, sphincter the ringing formed a counterpoint and an encouragement to Draco's lovemaking.

Harder.

Louder.

Faster.

He heard Harry come in a cacophonous jingle, muted by the spurt of semen coating the bells and stilling their tongues.

Harry's own tongue was anything but still. "Again! Come _on_, you prick."

And then, he never knew how Harry accomplished it, magic or contortionism, Draco felt something pressing against his own hole, blunt and warm and touching just _that_ spot, and he too came, gloriously, to the ringing of the bells.


End file.
